


Presence

by V_mum



Series: Aboveworld Tales [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Papyrus, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_mum/pseuds/V_mum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisked looked up at Papyrus, and then sighed themselves. They nodded. Papyrus pulled them a little closer.</p><p>Neither one of them said anything else. They just sat together in quiet, thinking, waiting, and taking comfort from each other’s presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presence

Frisk wasn't sure how long they’d been awake, merely lying in bed. Staring at the ceiling. a long time, they figured, as when they'd first looked up, it had been dark. They weren't sure when exactly it had happened, but by now, the room was lit with bright light, streaming through Frisk's semi-see-through thin white curtains. Night- or perhaps just early morning- had become day, how many hours had passed?

It could have been several, several hours by the time something in the room moved other than Frisk blinking.

The door opened slowly, announced by the soft sound of the doorknob twisting and clicking when it was released with the sound of something hard on the metal surface; a familiar sound for Frisk; bone.

As predicted, it was indeed a skeleton who slid inside slowly.

Papyrus.

He looked better than the foggy memories frisk had of him in the van, or better than any of the run-throughs of past rescue attempts. For one, he wasn't going to collapse into dust any second. That’s always a plus. Maybe Frisk wouldn’t have to rewind time again. They desperately hoped not.

But he looked haunted, and tired, like he'd never had any energy. No battle body; he was wearing his special clothes. Frisk knew papyrus had something different to him, and sometimes Papyrus had less than good days, where he'd be a little touchy, and he'd wear his 'special clothes'. Not like his 'special' date clothes. These were more comfortable, and they had the same cloth feel to them as Papyrus' scarf and his gloves. Sans told Frisk once (they weren’t sure if that was this timeline or a different one…) that Papyrus liked those kinds of textures because they could keep him calm. A baggy, long sleeved orange shirt with a hood and draw string grey pants, as well as his scarf. he didn't have his gloves, odd, but he did have socks.

Papyrus met frisk's eyes for a moment, before moving slowly to their bedside. "DO YOU WANT TO COME WITH ME TO THE KITCHEN?"

It seemed he was better enough to be talking loud again. That was a relief, too.

Frisk tentatively tried sitting up. They felt... good, healed. Almost like they could have imagined the whole ordeal. So they looked at papyrus and nodded, about to climb out of their bed.

Papyrus asked, instead, "CAN I CARY YOU?"

Frisk looked up, nodding again slowly, holding up their arms and scooting to the edge of the bed.

Papyrus smiled, picking frisk- they noticed they'd been changed into clean pajamas of their own, a white long sleeved shirt and black cotton pants- up with a content exhale, holding them to his chest with a sigh. Frisk wrapped their arms around his neck and let their cheek fall on his, eyes closing, content with the way Papyrus didn't leave just yet, standing and swaying just the smallest bit where he stood. Safe, okay. He was here, now, and neither of them were hurt. They were both safe, and they were both okay.

After a little while, Papyrus turned and frisk opened their eyes just a little, watching over Papyrus' shoulder as he re-opened the door, closed it behind him, and it shrank slowly and steadily from distance as Papyrus walked down the hall.

The living room, when they entered it, was full of sleeping monsters. Toriel leaned in her big comfy chair, her glasses still on her face in front of her usual magical fire place. Undyne was draped over the couch, passed out much less delicately than Toriel, and her face pillowed by her arms and the lap of scaly girlfriend, Alphys, who was slumped against the couch armrest. Asgore was nowhere to be seen, and more concerning considering his recent 24-7 guard fixation of never leaving Frisk’s, neither was Sans.

Papyrus continued through the living room, walking past the others in silence, into the kitchen, their pre-determined goal.

Ah. There was Asgore, at least. Frisk could see him through the next walkway, in the dining room. He was surrounded with papers and files, head down amongst them, snoring softer then a big guy like him could be expected to. Of course, king fluffy buns was anything if not soft; that included his snores.

Papyrus quietly closed both the door to the dining room and the living room. Everyone looked absolutely exhausted; there was no need to wake everyone up yet.

The kitchen windows were big, and the sky lights- which most monsters favored, for their love of their new sky to be visible over head at all times- as well as the windows along the walls let in streams of warm sunlight. Frisk didn't know a lot about sun positioning or even which direction the sun sets or rises, but the sun was right in the window, low in the skyline. It would soon change orange and set. so, that much frisk new, it was late in the day.

Papyrus seemed reluctant to let go, but gently set Frisk down in the chair. They both sort of clung to each other a little longer, before Frisk released him and Papyrus stood straight from his hunch.

"HOW DO YOUR ARMS FEEL?" he asked quietly; for him, at least. It was more like a stage whisper.

Frisk look down at their limbs, before carefully peeling up their sleeves. As Frisk look down at the wrappings of white bandaged that went up past their elbows, they started to wonder how Papyrus thought they had gotten them. It was a distressing thought, but Frisk- Frisk couldn't bring themselves to react in worry. The air was too calm, and their company too comfortable. They couldn't feel their anxiety coming up.

So they just settled on figuring out an answer to that question, and after running their free hand over the wrapping to try a little pressure, they looked up and gave Papyrus a smile. They felt just fine.

Papyrus smiled back, nodding. “THAT’S GOOD.”

Slowly, Papyrus eased into a chair nearby, until he was leaned back with a puff of exhaustion. Frisk watched him for a second, considering maybe asking to sit with him in his lap, before looking down at their fingers as they fidgeted.

“HOW ARE YOU?” Papyrus asked quickly, breaking the silence with his ‘quiet whispering’.

Frisk looked up and met his concerned eye sockets, and signed him a short ‘I'm okay’, smiling. They then returned the question.

Papyrus smiled crookedly. “GOOD. VERY GOOD. THE GREAT PAPYRUS DIDN’T REALLY GET HURT, I DON’T THINK. NOT MUCH.” After a few seconds of a contemplating look Papyrus looked back at Frisk. “FRISK. ARE YOU SURE? THAT YOU ARE ALRIGHT?”

Frisk nodded again, signing a few assurances. Papyrus sighed again. This time, Frisk asked, “s’ wrong?”

Papyrus shook his head and let his skull rest on the table. “YOU AND MY BROTHER ARE TOO SIMILAR IN SOMEWAYS. HE SLEPT A LOT WHEN WE CAME HOME. KEPT SAYING HE WAS OKAY. I DON’T KNOW IF HE REALLY IS. I DON’T KNOW IF YOU REALLY ARE.” He sighed, deeply. “I DON’T KNOW IF ANYONE IS.”

Frisk watched him with a frown, before hopping their chair over a few pegs- noisily- up to his side and head butted him tiredly. Papyrus threw his arm around Frisk and sighed again.

“SANS AND I TALKED. MY BROTHER SAYS THE HUMANS WHO TOOK ME DIDNT HURT YOU. HE SAID YOU DID THAT TO YOURSELF.” Frisked looked up at Papyrus, and then sighed themselves. They nodded. Papyrus pulled them a little closer.

Neither one of them said anything else. They just sat together in quiet, thinking, waiting, and taking comfort from each other’s presence.

**Author's Note:**

> one of the one-shots before the next of the major story arcs.
> 
> setting the stage, so to speak, but also giving Frisk a little break because the poor child needs cudle time with pappy and everyone needs a nap.  
> meanwhile where the hell is sans.


End file.
